The Red Game
by orrien
Summary: Axel-62, 4033. Twelve people are killed when a tunnel collapses during an excavation of buried missiles. Could this be the catalyst for interplanetary war? Or is something more sinister at work? Original 11th Doctor not Matt Smith and male companion.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi there. First of all, thanks for clicking that link and giving my little story a chance. **

**Secondly, a little disclaimer: This incarnation isn't owned by the BBC. He's actually owned by the wonderful templremus1990, whose amazing fic starring Eleven is actually being rewritten at the moment. As soon as it's up again, you should all read it - it's fantastic. The companion belongs to me, as do the planets and other random specifics mentioned, but they're free-for-all. You want to use them, you can. Oh, and Fror was mentioned by Scarf Warriors, but the detailing is mostly mine. Pretty much everything else belongs to the BBC. **

**In case you didn't quite get that: this Doctor, while technically being Eleven, isn't meant to be Matt Smith's portrayal (because he hasn't started yet, so how would I even do that?!). So no flaming about that, please. **

**I think that's about it. Read on, and (hopefully) enjoy!**

* * *

He woke up screaming, skin on fire. The sky was the faded lilac of evening, the twin planet reflecting the light of the far ruby sun, but all he saw was fire, and ice, and blackness.

He was dead until dawn.

--

Whiteness surrounded him – tight, heavy, soft. He wasn't aware that he had been moved, and there was far too little feeling in his limbs for him to have moved himself. There was no feeling anywhere. The pain had been replaced by an excruciating numbness; he might have thought himself dead if he had energy to think. Instead, he lay there, staring upwards at the lilac sky.

--

Some hours later – far into dawn as he remembered it, though more hours must have passed – he woke again. The sky was still lilac. A false evening, or he'd slept through the daylight hours at least twice. He was aware that he ought to have been hungry, and as soon as he thought it, felt a pang in his stomach. He couldn't feel where that was, though. The numbness made him feel oddly displaced. He knew where his body was meant to be, but he couldn't feel it. He also couldn't see it, because he was still staring upwards at the sky, even though he was sure he'd told himself to look elsewhere.

It was then that he realised that the sky had an end.

It was difficult to see at first, between the haziness of his mind and his gaze, but he could focus on it, like it was a solid object. As far as he remembered, the sky was not a solid object. Not on any planet.

But there it was, a solid sky. Or something all above him that was like a sky but not. This theory became more likely by the second as he realised that a tall glass column met the sky at the corner of his vision. He wondered briefly whether the column was supporting the sky. He was sure it couldn't bolster such a large object, but then he didn't know how much the sky weighed. Or how strong the glass was.

Before he had opportunity to ponder this further, he heard a low gurgling just beside his left ear. He turned to see what it was, and didn't turn. Frustrated at his lack of control over his own body, he rolled his eyes, inwardly cursing.

"Oh, hello. Awake, are you?"

The voice had a strange accent that he couldn't quite place, if indeed he'd ever heard it before. He got the distinct impression he never had, familiar though it sounded. He couldn't see who had spoken, but had they been in his line of sight, he would have glared at them. What, they were expecting a response when he couldn't move, let alone talk?

"I expect you're wondering what's going on. To be honest, I'm still doing that myself. The long and short of it is, you were trapped under an avalanche."

He could feel it then, around the body that he couldn't – a thick cloy of snow taking him hostage, punching him further into the icy darkness.

"You remember." Whoever was speaking – still out of view – paused for a few seconds before continuing, voice quickened and hitched slightly. "Were you exploring? Now this is going to hurt."

He might have found it odd that the speaker asked a question without waiting for an answer, but at that moment he felt a prick in his arm and was flooded with a bright burning sensation that tore at his flesh. A hand clamped over his mouth as his throat started to scream of its own accord.

"Use your hands," he was instructed. "Where it hurts."

_It hurts all over_, he wanted to yell, but couldn't stop screaming to let out the words. He instinctively clutched at his right shoulder blade, and jerked his hand back as the pain was replaced by an icy sharpness.

"Don't touch any one place for too long. You'll end up hurting yourself more. The gloves are just a temporary fix."

He glanced over and found his hands encased in some sort of plastic gloves, with a translucent yellow gel sandwiched between their two layers. He didn't know what the gel was, but it simultaneously numbed and scorched with its icy touch. His skin was already scalded, but as he cooled it area by area, the pain became more bearable.

His body had fully recovered from its temporary paralysis by this point, and he took the liberty of examining himself – interrupted every so often by a sharp spasm of pain that forced him to numb the offending region with the gloves. His hands and feet were more or less intact, though his heels had mild blistering. He remembered, walking across the ice, complaining that his boots had been too big.

The blisters were the least of his concern. Across his chest hung a thick patch of red weals, some with yellow-white strips, most an angry russet. Similar welts adorned his lower right thigh, left elbow and, judging by the fierce protest from his back whenever he put any sort of pressure on it, at least one of his shoulder blades.

"Feeling better?"

The tone of voice made it clear that he wasn't being asked if the pain had stopped – which would have been a ridiculous question given the obvious severity of his burns – but whether he was able to control himself.

He gave a cautious nod, and the hand was removed from his mouth.

He took in a deep lungful of air as he pushed himself into a seated position, relieving the pressure from the wounds on his back and letting him take in more of his surroundings.

The room was expansive and vaguely dome-shaped, with white walls and a striking red floor. The glass column was surrounded by a large hexagonal console, forming the focal point at the centre of the room. But it wasn't that which drew his attention.

There was a man stood to his left, blond hair a complete mess but nonetheless striking when paired with such snappy dress sense. His jacket matched the red of the floor, and his trousers didn't seem to be the plain black that they first appeared. He proffered a mug. "Tea?"

"Pardon?"

"Oh, sorry. You must be wondering who I am, where you are, et cetera, et cetera. Yes? I'm the Doctor, this is the TARDIS, and this," he said, lifting up the mug, "is quite possibly the best mug of tea I've ever made." He took a large gulp of the liquid and crouched down on the floor. "And who might you be, young sir?"

"Ixfin. Thank you. For taking care of me."

"For finding you, you mean. And it wasn't easy, you know. Locating you was difficult enough, but finding a polythene spade to dig with? Nightmare. Incidentally, why were you even on a category six planet?"

Ixfin shifted uncomfortably, placing a gloved hand on his elbow to soothe the sudden flare of heat under his blistering skin. "We were wearing suitable protection."

"Looks like it." The Doctor cast a critical eye over the young man's wounds. "You were in hazmat suits. They might protect you from the rain and the snow, but a snag on a rock and you're vulnerable. And you got snagged by more than one rock." He heaved himself to his feet and pulled the tattered remains of the suit up to show. Massive rips shredded it from head to toe, leaving only the visor intact.

"Unexpected rockfall," Ixfin said quietly.

"It was a landslide. You're lucky to have survived with such minor burns, especially considering the acid content of the precipitation. Good grief, the only reason you survived at all was pure chance."

Ixfin looked away, not wanting to meet the stranger's gaze, afraid of confirming the truth. After a few moments, however, he found that he could bear the silence even less. "None of them survived?"

"One was still alive." The Doctor's voice was soft. "But by the time I found her, she was too far gone. I'm sorry." The last phrase was a hoarse whisper. "If I could have saved them, I would."

"Is that what you do, then?" Ixfin looked up at him suddenly, his expression less than friendly. "A travelling doctor who just happens to be in the right place at the right time?"

"Sometimes." The man looked away into a corner of the so-called TARDIS, and further even than that. "If I'm lucky," he murmured.

Ixfin waited for the stranger's gaze to return to the world. "And if you aren't?"

"Then people get hurt. Or they die. And it's usually my fault, one way or another."

"I'm sorry," Ixfin said, though he wasn't sure whether he was. The words seemed oddly empty. At that moment, everything did.

The Doctor quirked his lips. "Strange how words never mean what you want them to, isn't it?" He met Ixfin's gaze and smiled suddenly, madly. "So, an explorer. Your first trip?"

"Fourteenth." Ixfin found himself smiling back. "My dad used to lead expeditions when I was younger. But with mum gone, he gave it up to look after me. I made him take it up again last year. Made him promise to take me with him." He laughed then, a hollow half-gasp, half-choked sob as his back erupted in pain again.

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Blame yourself." The Doctor looked at him with green eyes so old they looked grey. "You're too young for such twisted thoughts."

"I'm not blaming myself."

"Well...good."

"I'm blaming them."

The Doctor watched him hesitantly for a second or two. "Who?" he asked finally, his voice soft but guarded.

"Fror," Ixfin replied, as though this should have been obvious.

"Fror?" The Doctor looked at him, uncomprehending, for several moments. Then his eyes widened. "Oh... The four great wars of the Castan galaxy. Of course." He looked at Ixfin with a sort of morbid curiosity. "You must have grown up in those conflicts."

Ixfin held his gaze, his expression so hostile that he looked about a second away from tears. "The third war took my mother. I was seven. The fourth took my best friend. Sixty years of war, Doctor. And they still won't leave us alone."

"How'd you mean? I thought the Voluptran Council called a ceasefire back in '29." He frowned.

Ixfin looked at him with dead eyes. "That was before we excavated Frorling weapons on Axel 62."

"Oh, so _that's_ what you were doing. You'll forgive me for saying that's an incredibly stupid excuse to go anywhere near a category six planet. I mean, honestly. You really are lucky to have escaped with such minor injuries."

"The others weren't so lucky."

"No. Well." The Doctor lowered his gaze. "Nothing I can do about that, I'm afraid."

"But the planet was stable, Doctor. Axel 62. They gave the all-clear for expeditions twenty years ago. Yes, the acid was dangerous, but the planet itself was stable. As long as proper procedures were followed, there shouldn't have been anything that could go wrong."

"Landslides can happen anywhere."

"It wasn't a landslide. The excavation triggered one of the weapons. It damaged the tunnel infrastructure and the shaft collapsed."

"You weren't trapped there by accident." The Doctor looked at him with his mouth hung slightly open. "You said you were looking for Frorling weapons."

Ixfin cautiously nodded.

"You were looking for enemy weapons that would prove that Fror had disobeyed the Voluptran Council, and there just _happened_ to be a landslide?"

"You think they were responsible?"

The Doctor shrugged off his jacket, looking serious. "I think somebody was."

* * *

**Reviews make smiles. =D**


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter is dedicated to Trickster, for being so awesome and being not only my first (and only) reviewer, but also agreeing to beta this fic. **

**And also badgering me to write more, because she knows I'll never get round to it otherwise. Pssh. I'll make her a Whovian in no time, mark my words. Or just of this fic. Either way. **

* * *

"Because the thing is, I only found you by accident. Just travelling past when I saw this teensy little spaceship docked on the ice. And I thought, Axel 62, that's not right, that's not safe." He glanced over at Ixfin as he stood to his feet. The young man looked so vulnerable sat on the floor of the TARDIS, extensive burns only just masked by the swathes of bandages across his chest.

"And it isn't safe, of course it isn't. That's why it's category six, because it's just not safe. It can't even support life! I mean, sure, it has a breathable atmosphere – for most humanoid races, anyway – but the temperature, and the acid... No." He pulled a face. "Just, no. Unsafe. Stupidly unsafe. Good grief, you'd think your government wanted you dead or some–" He paused before looking up, eyebrows knotted in a frown. "...You said they were Frorling weapons."

"That's right."

The Doctor glanced down at him. "How sure of that are you?"

"I saw them with my own eyes, Doctor. At least a hundred missiles, buried underneath the ice."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "And just who would bury missiles on a planet so unstable that it might collapse?"

Ixfin clambered to his feet, scowling and wincing in pain. "People who didn't want them to be uncovered, I expect. Or–" His expression crumpled. "Or people who wanted them to be uncovered by the enemy."

"Possibly, possibly." The Doctor looked up at the roof of the TARDIS, in deep thought. "Somebody who wanted them uncovered, certainly."

"That explains the shells."

The Doctor turned to face him abruptly. "What do you mean?"

"The shells. They'd started to corrode because of the ice. Acid and all that."

"Acid!" the Doctor said suddenly, practically throwing his pointed finger towards Ixfin. "Acid! You don't make weapon shells out of materials that easily corrode, that would be stupid!"

"More stupid than excavating on Axel 62?" Ixfin meant it as a joke, but the Doctor's expression was perfectly serious.

"Exactly as stupid."

Ixfin frowned.

The Doctor just looked like he was in the middle of an epiphany. Perhaps he was. "They weren't missiles. It was all just pretence. They wanted people to think that there were Frorling weapons buried there, but then they went and blew up the evidence. Oh, that's clever." He gave a derisive snort that showed he didn't think that at all.

"But who are they?"

"Well, it obviously wasn't Fror. I'd hazard a guess at... Well, at Larth, actually."

"But Larth don't have that sort of weaponry. We _lost_ the war, Doctor. If we'd had that sort of weaponry, we'd have used it."

"But Fror were better equipped. Bringing out your big guns would just have made them bring out even bigger ones, am I right?" The Doctor shook his head. "Fror came off better than Larth following the ceasefire, yes? So, your lot are bitter."

Ixfin opened his mouth to protest, but was cut short.

"Don't argue with me, I can see it written all over your face. When you tell stories, they're the villains. When something goes wrong, you blame it on them. Enemy number one."

"They slaughtered thousands of innocent civilians and methodically burned half a continent," Ixfin spat.

"And you didn't do the same?" The Doctor shot him a disbelieving look. "I've been around for centuries, and if there's one thing I've learned, it's that nobody ever comes out of war with clean hands. There isn't a war in history where one side's escaped hurting innocents or broken moral codes, and there isn't a war where they haven't tried to justify it. So claim whatever injustices you like, but don't try saying your side aren't guilty of similar crimes."

"We didn't _burn_ them," Ixfin choked out. "We didn't set fire to their cities in the dead of the night and have them wake to find their family's _ashes_."

"No." The Doctor laid a hand on his shoulder. "I don't suppose you did."

Ixfin leaned against the central console, blinking back hot tears.

"My point is," the Doctor continued, his voice softer now, "that I think, what anybody would want, in your planet's position, is revenge. Maybe not what they need, but what they want. And–" He waited for Ixfin to face him "–I think that that's probably a bad idea. Because that'll only start off the conflict all over again. And I think you've seen enough wars for your lifetime."

"But the Voluptran Council called a ceasefire," Ixfin said. "If either side restarted the war, they'd take action."

"Exactly. So what Larth would need to do is, they'd need to restart the war and make it seem like it wasn't their fault. By blaming it on Fror."

Ixfin's mouth fell open. "They weren't Frorling weapons. Larth buried them there."

The Doctor said nothing, preferring to simply look grim. He turned away to the central console and began adjusting various controls.

"So you mean that...they're trying to start another war?"

The Doctor nodded. "It would seem that way."

"But they've barely recovered from the last! That's madness."

"Well, yes. Except that they'll have the Voluptran Council on their side, which increases their chance of winning rather significantly. Strength in numbers and all that."

Ixfin hurried to his side. "Then we have to stop it. Take us to– Can you take us to Larth?"

The Doctor regarded him with a sombre expression. "To do what? They initiated this plan, and you expect them to just abandon it at the drop of a hat?" He shook his head. "If anything, they'd silence you so that you couldn't interfere. Take you prisoner, or kill you, or..." His voice crept to a murmur. "Worse."

Ixfin remained undeterred. "Then take me to Fror. We can warn them, make sure they're prepared."

"I'm not taking you into a war zone," the Doctor answered sharply. "You tell them to prepare themselves, and then they'll actually break the ceasefire. Then there'll be no way of helping them."

"So what?" Ixfin searched him with desperate eyes. "We just let it start all over again? Sit it out in your ship and just _watch them burn_?" A tear trickled down his cheek. "I have friends down there, Doctor. And I won't let them be slaughtered by a needless war."

The pair stared at each other for several moments before Ixfin broke away, lower lip trembling, and headed for the door.

He cracked it open, and was met with a gust of icy wind. A hand rested above his and pulled it shut again. "I didn't say that."

"So what do we do?" Ixfin spoke to the door rather than to him. It was easier.

"Well." The Doctor paused, and when he spoke again, his voice came from further away. "I thought we might pay the Voluptran Council a visit. Only first, I think you might rather want to get some clothes on."

Ixfin looked down. He was still in only shorts and bandages.

--

"Very nice," the Doctor said, not even turning to face him. All his attention was focused on the console, which was now brilliantly lit up in blue-white hues.

"I didn't want to wear anything that might get ruined," Ixfin replied. The clothing underneath was in decent enough condition – a white shirt and blue shorts that came down past his knees – but the coat that he wore was tattered enough to make up for it. It looked as though it might have started life as a labcoat, though the white had long since faded to grey, several buttons were missing, and barely a seam remained intact.

"Why, are you planning on ruining it?" There was no answer, but it seemed the Doctor wasn't expecting one. "So, Voluptran Council. I'm assuming this is your first flight aboard a TARDIS, so you might want to hold on tight."

The light of the glass column shivered, and Ixfin had the stomach-churning sensation of moving without being able to see himself doing so. He clutched onto the console with one hand and clamped the other to his mouth, mumbling through it.

The Doctor looked at him. "Pardon?"

Ixfin swallowed before risking an attempt to speak. "Haven't you got any windows?" he repeated.

"Windows?" The Doctor stared at him as though he were barking mad. "What would I want windows for?"

_To see out of?_ Ixfin bit back the obvious reply and cautiously removed his hand from the console. He stumbled towards the doors and cracked one open slightly. He was expecting fresh air. There wasn't any. They weren't on any sort of planet; instead, they were whizzing past streaks of the universe in an odd pirouette that only made him more nauseous. He shut the door and shrank to the floor, burying his head between his knees.

"Atmospheric stability field," said the Doctor, without so much as a glance toward the young man. "So yes, it's perfectly safe to open the door, don't worry, thanks for asking."

It was then that he saw Ixfin huddled on the floor. His expression fell. Without another word, the Doctor leaned across the console and reversed levers, twisted dials and jabbed at display screens until the ship came to a slow and juddery halt.

A few seconds of silence passed before Ixfin raised his head, looking positively green. The Doctor walked over to him, hands in pockets.

Ixfin tentatively glanced up to meet his gaze. "Whereabouts are we?"

"Don't know." Something in the Doctor's voice was alarmingly cheery. "I've travelled with hundreds of companions, but I can honestly say you're the first I've met who gets time-travel sick. The TARDIS made an emergency stop. I don't blame her. Probably thought you were going to throw up on her circuitry." He kept his gaze warily on Ixfin, as though he were still very much expecting the same thing.

The young man merely stared straight back at him, though he felt slightly green. "You're speaking as though your ship's alive."

"She is."

"Right."

"And you can wipe that expression from your face, too."

Ixfin frowned. "What expression?"

"The oh-dear-I'm-travelling-with-a-madman expression."

The light within the glass column wavered.

The Doctor shot it a sidelong glance. "I don't know what you're laughing about. I've half a mind to drive us through some turbulence, see how you like that. No, I know it won't damage your infrastructure, but it'd be interesting to see how well your interior deals with having _him_ onboard." A pause. "No, I am _not_ a madman."

"You're talking to a spaceship," Ixfin pointed out, rather loudly.

The Doctor turned to him, perfectly at ease. "I've found she often offers better conversation than the alternative. No offence intended, of course, but she's highly sophisticated technology."

"Let me guess," Ixfin said, with a vaguely amused expression. "You built her."

"Built? You don't _build_ a TARDIS, you _grow_ it. You can't just build a sentient spaceship, you know."

"My mistake. So you _grew_ her then, did you?"

The Doctor scratched at his chin, suddenly looking very awkward. "Not exactly. More...acquired under dubious circumstances."

"You stole it."

"Let's not jump to conclusions."

"I notice you're not denying it." Ixfin folded his arms, ignoring the twinge of pain from both his shoulder blade and left elbow.

The Doctor heaved a sigh. "Look, it's a long story. The point is, she is mine. TARDISes are telepathically linked to their pilots. For all intents and purposes, I'm her owner. Okay?"

"And you're all right with being 'owned', are you?" Ixfin asked the glass column, a hint of irritation in his voice.

The TARDIS didn't move.

"Oh, I see. You only answer him, is that right?"

"Not quite," the Doctor corrected. "She just doesn't like you yet."

"Oh, _thanks_."

The Doctor pulled a face. "Oh, come on. You've only just met. Give her a while. Besides, you were threatening to be sick just a second ago, it's no wonder her first response is to keep her distance." He glanced over, caught Ixfin's expression, and coughed. "Anyway," he continued, as the machine whirred back into life under his expert hand, "ready for another try?"

* * *

**Remember, reviews make smiles. =D**


	3. Chapter 3

**So yeah. It's not been abandoned. **

**I actually know where I'm going with this. Sort of. Vaguely. It'll get there. **

* * *

Ixfin clung to the outskirt of the console so tightly that his knuckles turned as white as his hair. There was an awkward moment just after the Doctor announced their arrival, when the thudding force of the TARDIS landing was enough to knock Ixfin from his feet and onto the floor. Nevertheless, he somehow managed to keep his mouth clamped tightly shut. The Doctor seemed about to speak at one point, before realising it was probably better if Ixfin didn't open his mouth to reply.

The fresh air came as a relief the moment they stepped out of the TARDIS. Ixfin swallowed with difficulty. "Rough trip," he croaked.

"Pardon?" The Doctor glanced at his pale face and nodded sagely. "Ah, yes. Truth be told, I'm not entirely sure how well this companionship will work out."

Ixfin shook his head. "I'll get used to it." He shut his eyes and sat down on the grassy plain with a soft whumph, needing a second to get his bearings. After a few moments, he looked back up at the Doctor. "Wait, what companionship?"

The Doctor coughed loudly and rather suddenly. "Right, well. Here we are. Off we go." He headed off so quickly that Ixfin wasn't convinced he had actually walked there rather than simply teleporting some metres ahead. Belatedly, he stumbled to his feet and hurried in the Doctor's footsteps.

"Where exactly are we going?" That was the first question that escaped Ixfin's mouth once he had both regained his breath and begun to trust himself not to be sick.

"The Voluptran Council. I thought we discussed that earlier. Rather, I thought I informed you of that earlier. Didn't I?"

He spoke quickly enough that Ixfin didn't have a chance to interrupt. Instead, he waited until the Doctor had finished before replying, "That doesn't answer my question."

"Does it need to?"

"Pardon?" Ixfin pushed himself a little harder to close the distance between them, ignoring the fierce pain in his leg. He was growing almost used to the tightness of his chest, but it looked as if it would be a long time before he could comfortably walk anywhere.

"Well," the Doctor said, a slight hitch in his breath as he continued his impossible pace, "we're going wherever we're going, regardless of where it may be. You obviously trust me enough to follow me before asking where that is, so there's little point in me answering."

Ixfin attempted a jog to keep pace with the Doctor, but broke after a few strides, clutching at his right leg and cursing under his breath. The Doctor didn't bother to wait, though he slowed his pace enough that Ixfin could catch up if he tried – and try he did, albeit on one leg for the best part of the distance. "You know, where I'm from, you follow people you _don't_ trust."

"Really. That seems rather stupid."

Ixfin hesitated, unsure how to respond.

"If you want to ask, then ask. No need to be shy. I don't usually bite, and if I do, there are always jabs."

"What?" Ixfin frowned in confusion, and for the first time since they had left the TARDIS, the Doctor turned his head to glance briefly at the young man.

"You know. Jabs. Inoculations."

"I didn't mean that. What made you think I wanted to ask a question?"

The Doctor let out a snort of derisive laughter, though it seemed to be aimed more at himself than at Ixfin. "Because – and call me mad, many have – I believe that you still have a vague capacity for rational thinking. In which case you would have a thousand questions to ask, because I'm a complete stranger, have for all intents and purposes kidnapped you to some unknown destination, and am insane, at least socially."

Ixfin raised an eyebrow. "Socially insane."

"Yes. Something akin to social smoking or drinking, in that it's an addiction I claim to indulge only around others of a similar disposition – not that you'd be able to prove otherwise, as you wouldn't be around."

"Are you calling me insane?"

"Last time I checked, dear boy, the whole universe was. I can't for the life of me remember whether that was before the end of the world or not, though. I don't suppose it matters greatly."

"The end of which world?"

"Quite." Ixfin caught the hint of a smile on the Doctor's face as he turned his head to catch the horizon. "I knew there was something about you. Come on. Just over this hill."

Ixfin shot him a curious glance that was entirely lost on the Doctor's turned back. "What hill?"

The Doctor sent him a brief grin and stood still, admiring the grass beneath his shoes as he waited for the young man to catch up.

It was only as Ixfin drew closer that he realised that, while the horizon remained where he had previously thought, the grassy plain no longer stretched as far as the eye could see. It continued for several miles back in the direction of the TARDIS, but only just farther than the Doctor's feet ahead of them. Further than that extended what could only be described as a chasm.

The ground fell some fifty metres before dipping back up the other side. The banks were rugged and scabrous, decorated with the odd boulder, and looking for all the world like a desert landscape. Yet at the foot of the chasm lay distinct signs of civilisation, ringed by a length of wall that encapsulated gates and guard towers. It didn't look particularly inviting.

"Am I to assume you've never visited here before, then?"

Ixfin's attention was still drawn by the craterous landscape; he didn't meet the Doctor's eye. "What is it?"

"Originally, a volcanic crater. It was crafted into a citadel some three hundred epochs ago." He sighed down at the city. "They're one of the only civilisations stupid enough to allow themselves to be surrounded by the higher ground on all sides and get away with it. So far, anyway."

"Maybe they're just waiting for war."

The Doctor looked at him in surprise.

"What?" Ixfin regarded him with something of his earlier bitter expression, though leaning closer to a pout than before. "Am I not allowed to have conspiracy theories of my own?"

"No, no, nothing like that." The Doctor gave him a dazed smile. "Come on, let's see where the action is."

Ixfin felt an arm grip his shoulder and push him toward the edge. He dug in his heels. "Are you _trying_ to kill us?"

"No, but I shan't deny it's sometimes a nasty side-effect." The Doctor was still smiling. He caught sight of Ixfin's face, and the penny dropped. "Oh, you thought we were going to jump. Not quite."

"Then what?"

The Doctor grinned. "We're going to slide."

"Slide?" Ixfin repeated. "Down there? You're _insane_."

"Only socially." With that, the Doctor let himself fall to the ground and promptly inched over the edge.

Ixfin could only stare at his retreating figure as it began its speedy and unstoppable journey down to the citadel. A tumble of rocky debris followed his path. "Thanks," Ixfin muttered. "And how am I supposed to do that without breaking a limb?"

"You'll be fine!" came the shout from below. Whether the Doctor had actually heard him was doubtful – Ixfin was beginning to think the man had a strange knack for saying things at the right time. And, for some reason that continued to elude him, Ixfin trusted him to be right.

He took a deep breath and carried himself over the edge.

--

"Do stop that," the Doctor scolded the moment Ixfin's eyes opened into the world of consciousness once more. Ixfin murmured something in reply that barely registered in his own ears, though the Doctor seemed to catch the gist.

"No, you managed it down okay. No added injuries – which is something, at least." He scratched his chin. "You just managed to black out on the way down, which is perfectly understandable and probably my fault."

"How so?" Ixfin moved his fingers just to double-check. All were working well enough. He was lying in a ditch at the flat of the canyon, about an arm's length from the end of the steep. The gates of the citadel lay within walking distance; a guard watched them silently from his post.

"Well, as there was no injury sustained, the most likely cause of your fainting is fear. I can't help but feel I ought to have told you about the air cushion surrounding this place _before_ jumping."

"It might have helped."

The Doctor rubbed his chin. For the first time, Ixfin noticed a scar running along it. "Anyway, if you're okay, we should probably go and present ourselves to the Council. We probably look a little suspicious just stood here. Or sprawled on the floor, in your case."

"It's a hobby." Ixfin grimaced, ignoring the familiar twinge in his shoulder as he stood to his feet and followed the Doctor.

The guard surveyed their approach with a bored expression. "State the reason for your visit."

The Doctor smiled before pulling a battered black cardholder from his jacket pocket and flashing its contents at the guard. "Urgent business, I'm sure you understand."

"Of course, sir." The guard stood aside with a salute.

The Doctor pulled a face. "Every planet, they still salute." He sighed and shook his head. "C'mon." He gestured toward the throughway, giving the guard a mock salute of his own as he passed.

Ixfin stumbled after him, wearing annoyance on his face. "What's in that?" He nodded towards the cardholder.

"Nothing." The Doctor shrugged and didn't turn. "Just a scrap of paper."

Ixfin eyed him with suspicion. "A scrap of paper that lets you through a guarded gate without so much as a question?"

"Credentials," the Doctor added unhelpfully.

"Could I see?"

The Doctor paused for the briefest of moments before handing the cardholder over.

Ixfin flipped it open. It really did contain nothing more interesting than a piece of paper encased in a protective plastic flap. Ixfin gave the casing a cautious sniff. It didn't smell like the hide of any animal he knew, but in all likelihood, it wasn't. The Doctor might have acquired it on any number of planets.

He turned to inspect the paper more closely. _Doctor John Smith_, it read.

Ixfin frowned. A name, and that was something.

That was, apparently, all. Doctor John Smith. He pulled the paper out to check the reverse, just in case, but there was no further text. Just a name. No supposed 'credentials' or anything even close. "That's it?"

The Doctor shot him an amused glance. "Problem?"

"You don't seem to have any qualifications or anything. What sort of a doctor are you, exactly?"

The Doctor paused, frowned, and placed a finger against his lip in a thoughtful manner. "A travelling doctor, wasn't that what you said?" He smiled. "That's me."

"But you don't have any qualifications?"

"I have experience in handfuls, though." The Doctor grinned at Ixfin's baffled reaction. "What qualifications would I have that you'd recognise, anyway? Different planet, remember. Alien. That's also me."

"A travelling alien doctor." Ixfin looked back at the paper in his hand with a thoughtful expression. After mere moments, he was frowning again. "Hang on a second – how can I read this?"

"Isn't it written in your native language?" The Doctor smiled.

Ixfin's frown deepened. "I... No? If it was, how could the guard understand it?"

"If it were," the Doctor corrected.

"How can I understand _you_?"

The Doctor leaned an elbow against the young man's shoulder. "See? I said you'd have a thousand questions. Don't worry, I might even answer a few later." He paused to glance at his wrist, though there was nothing remarkable about it. "Only right now, there are a couple of worlds that need saving."

Ixfin raised his eyebrows. "Then shouldn't you be off saving them, Doctor?"

"I might need a helping hand."

Ixfin looked down at his palms. The left one was blistered along the knuckle pad, and scrapes adorned the wrist. He held out his right one. "For what it's worth, you've got mine."

* * *

**And one day, this might even be reviewed by somebody I don't know. =D**


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